


This is the Beginning of Something Beautiful

by Nikolaus_Chaser



Series: 2018 SPN A/B/O Bingo Fills [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean, Alpha/Alpha, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And Sam SHIPS IT!!!, Bondage, Breeding Kink, Curses, Dirty Dancing, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff and Crack, Friends to Lovers, Knotting, Las Vegas Wedding, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Castiel, Prank Wars, SPN A/B/O Bingo, Scent Marking, Sharing a Bed, Stripping, TFW takes a Vacation, This fic is basically going to be one big joke but, Truth or Dare, Wing Kink, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 06:35:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14971172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikolaus_Chaser/pseuds/Nikolaus_Chaser
Summary: Dean develops an unexpected allergy to pie, and the boys venture to Las Vegas to track down a witch who can help them with their problems.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Dean is teaching Cas how to enjoy the finer things in life.  
> Fills the SPN ABO Bingo Square: "Prank War"

“Time check,” Dean says.  he doesn't bother to glance up from the table in the war room where he’s hunched over Sam’s laptop, screwdriver in hand.  Castiel glances at the watch on his wrist; he’s taken to wearing one lately since he’s started losing his grace, and he announces efficiently, “It’s 5:17 PM.  Sam will be back in ten minutes.”

He nods, and bows his head in concentration as he goes right back to work.  Castiel steps closer to the table and leans over his shoulder, his belly brushing Dean’s shoulder.  Warmth spreads from the place where Castiel is touching him, and it takes every fibre of his being for Dean not to tense up at the close contact.  His ears turn red and he clears his throat, dropping the screwdriver back onto the table.

“Alright, all finished,” Dean beams, and he slides the laptop towards Castiel for his examination.  A small, amused smile lifts the corners of Castiel’s lips as he looks at Dean’s handiwork, skimming his fingers over the perfectly rearranged keys.

“This is amusing,” he says with a chuckle, and he closes the lid of the computer and slides it towards Sam’s place at the table, plugging it back into its charging port as if nothing happened.  With a smug smile, Dean pushes his chair out and heads into the kitchen to get himself a beer.

“You want a drink?” he calls, and doesn't wait for a response before he's tossing the angel a cold one.  He drinks it without complaint. There’s even a small smile on his face.  It makes Dean’s heart pound in a weird way in his chest.  it maybe even skips a few beats, and he buries his face in his beer so that he doesn’t need to look at Cas anymore.

The bunker door swings open a few minutes later, and Sam walks in from his evening jog with a sweat-soaked shirt clinging to his back and a freaking sweatband wrapped around his forehead.  Dean grunts at him and nods, asking, “Hey Sammy, y’want a beer?”

“Yeah, take one out for me.  I’m gonna hit the showers and then maybe we can watch something?”

“Sure.  Now go, you smell like a stray dog,” Dean says with a smirk.  Castiel giggles from the other end of the table, unable to contain himself, and Dean sends him a sharp look.  Sam raises his eyebrows but knows better than to ask, and he excuses himself to the showers down the hallway. Dean takes a swig from his beer and then puts it down on the table with a loud _thump_ , leaning over the table to whisper to Cas.

“Dude, you’re gonna give us away! Part of pulling a good prank is being stealthy.”

“Stealthy, right,” Castiel says, nodding seriously.

“You gotta be zen.  Pretend like nothing’s different.  Otherwise you’re gonna tip your hat.”

Castiel frowns and scratches the back of his head, ruffling his hair.  It sticks up in every direction in a way that Dean honestly can’t help but think of as anything but _adorable_.

“I don’t usually wear a hat.  Should I?”

“Cas,” Dean coughs, scratches his nose to keep himself from laughing.  “It’s a phrase. Just keep your poker face on, okay? We got this,” he says.  Castiel nods in understanding.

“Oh, yes.  I remember when we played poker.  I won $35,” he says with a grin. Dean can’t help but smile fondly, and he reaches out to pat Castiel on the wrist.

“Yeah buddy, I remember.”  He stands up and stretches, snagging his beer from the edge of the table and starting off towards the Dean Cave.  “Come on, we’ll go pick the movie before Sam gets out of the shower. Otherwise we’ll want up watching some documentary about ants or something.”

“Ants are actually quite interesting, Dean.  Did you know that they have two stomachs? And they can swim,” he says.  He can’t see it, but Dean has the biggest smile on his face as he heads into the den-turned-Dean Cave they’re going to be spending movie night hanging in.

“Yeah?  I guess that’s kind of interesting.”

“I was following some in the garden behind the bunker yesterday.  They have very specific routes that they follow for food collection.  I left a little dish of sugar water out beside their hill for them to enjoy.” he says.  Inside the Dean Cave, Dean immediately plops down in one of the comfy armchairs and loads up Netflix.

“What’chu wanna watch tonight?”

“Tombstone?”  Castiel suggests, sitting on the edge of the armchair beside Dean’s.  The Alpha beams at him and nods in agreement.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself, Cas.”

 _“What the fuck did you assholes do to my laptop?”_ Sam shrieks from the War Room, and Dean immediately smiles and leans back in his chair, chuckling to himself.  Castiel’s whole face turns red and he bites his lip hard, stifling his own laughter as Sam storms in with his open laptop in his arms and a wrapped towel piled high on his head.  At the sight of him, Dean breaks down in a full-body laugh, doubled over himself as he wheezes. He reaches out to slap Castiel on the leg, gripping his thigh to keep himself from falling out of his chair.

“So I guess this was Dean’s idea, then.”

Castiel smirks.  “No, it was mine,” he beams.  Dean chuckles and beams at him, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes.  “But it is Dean’s handiwork.”

“Huh,” Sam’s eyebrows twitch, and he looks down at his keyboard with an unimpressed scowl on his face.  “Makes sense. ‘YOURE AN ASSBUTT’ isn’t exactly one of Dean’s catchphrases.”

“Y-you should’a-- oh my God, you should’a--” Dean laughs, slapping his own knee, and he finally legs go of Castiel’s leg.  Cas stares at the place on his knee where Dean’s fingers were squeezing, a certain expression on his face-- what is that? Longing? Hope?-- that gives him pause.  Dean is too busy cracking himself up to notice. “The look on-- on your face w-was so _priceless_.  Oh my God,” he brushes the tears from his cheeks one last time and leans back again in his chair.  He sighs. “Oh. Wow. I haven’t laughed like that in…” he trails off, looking at Cas with a fond smile.  Sam clears his throat.

“Okay, laugh it up.  Ha, ha. How long did this take you to do?  I was only out for like an hour,” he says. Dean shrugs, a proud smirk on his face.

“What can I say?  I work fast. Now are you gonna take a seat and watch Tombstone with us, or what?”

Sam huffs.  “I think I’ll take a raincheck,” he snaps, glaring at his laptop keyboard.  Then he looks between Dean and Cas and adds with a sly smile. “Let you two enjoy date night while I figure out how to fix this,” he says, and he he leaves the room before either of them can respond, try as Dean might to get the last word in.  All the sounds that can leave his lips are malformed words and incoherent stuttering.

Castiel fidgets in his seat, wringing his hands between his thighs.  “Dean, we don’t have to watch the movie without Sam if you don’t want--”

“No, no,” Dean says, and he snatches the remote from the coffee table in front of the TV and hits play.  The opening credits start to roll and Dean relaxes against the back of his chair, clears his throat. “Sam’s just talking shit ‘cause he knows we got him good.” Dean offers Castiel a conspiratorial smile.  “I think you’ve finally earned your wings, Clarence. You’re a certified Prankster.”

Castiel beams.  “Yeah?” he asks.  

“Oh yeah,” Dean nods and pats his knee.  “I can say with faith that Gabriel would be proud.”  This time, he’s all too conscious of the casual touch and he makes sure to withdraw his hand after just a moment.

Castiel’s smile is ecstatic.  He nods at Dean’s words and gets comfortable in his armchair, stretching his arms over his head and stifling a yawn.  They sit in silence for a while, watching the movie play out on the big screen. When Dean looks at him again, Cas is wearing the faintest smirk on his face.  He lifts his eyebrows.

“What?” he asks. Castiel shrugs.

“Oh, nothing,” he says, and tilts his head to the side.  “Just thinking about all the pranks I’m planning to pull on you.”

Dean snorts and he smiles, and leans closer to Castiel to whisper a challenge in his ear.  “Oh yeah, buddy? Is that how’s it’s gonna be, then? A prank war?”

Castiel beams, and his happy, flowery scent fills Dean’s nostrils and makes his alpha head swim dizzy.  Castiel snickers and says, “Hell yeah.” And the game is on.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean develops an unexpected allergy.  
> Fills the SPN ABO Bingo Square: "Curses"

Dean tiptoes into the library, creeps along the wall, hiding from view behind the shelves.  Castiel is sitting at the table, immersed in some book he’s found that’s about the lifespan of lizards.  The next thing he knows, he’s sure Cas will be asking if he can keep a pet bearded dragon in the house. Dean wonders idly if he says yes to one of Cas’s pet requests one of these days, if they will stop.

Dean knows better than that, though.

He slides across the wall and barely makes it out of the library without bringing attention to himself.  Now he’s standing in their store room, where they keep all of their spell ingredients and the crazy weapons the Men of Letters have collected in this bunker over the years.  The only way to get to this room is through the library, and Dean had to do it without setting off alarm.

He’s going to get Cas so good, and he can’t wait.

They’ve been engaged in an on-and-off prank war for the past two weeks.  Dean has to give it to Cas: he’s been very creative and he’s really been holding his own in this battle.  He really tripped Dean up the other day. He asked to borrow the Impala to go to the gardening center in town, and when he came back he stuck one of those fake car-scratch decals to the side of the Impala.  Dean nearly fainted when he saw the so-called extensive damage to his Baby, and Castiel’s acting had been on point too. He’d really pulled out all the big guns for that prank, and Dean knew he had to retaliate with something extreme if he was going to win this war.

That’s why Dean needed a spell.  Amazingly, he’d been able to track down some great practical jokes in an old tome of Norse seidr magic.  A spell that magics away the victim’s hair seems a tad more convenient than trying to sneak Nair into either Sam or Cas’s shampoo bottles.  Firstly, because Sam double checks all of his soap and toothpaste these days before he uses them. And secondly, because even though Cas is eating and sleeping with the rest of the humans, he still isn’t quite fond of showering or using the bathroom, and is putting those human traditions off until they are absolutely necessary.

Dean sneaks his way through the library and ducks into the storage room.  And then, because he isn’t exactly as stealthy as he thinks he is, he promptly knocks his ass into the shelving unit and bottles of ingredients go crashing to the floor.  Dean dives out of the way just in time for the whole cupboard to come crashing to the floor. He trips over his own shoelaces as he stumbles away (and how the hell did he forget to tie his shoelaces?  Or is this another one of Castiel’s damn pranks?) and falls to the floor. And then an open container of _something_ lands right on his face, and light pink powder spills all over his nose and mouth.  He coughs and sputters, flailing to get out of the way, just as the storage room door crashes open and Castiel rushes to his side.

“Dean!  Are you okay?” he asks, assessing Dean’s body for injuries.  Dean grunts and tries to roll away, but there’s a crick in his back that keeps him from moving very far.  He winces and Castiel cups his cheeks, stabilizing his head. “Oh no, Dean, don’t move. I think you’re hurt.”

“M’fine,” Dean grunts, but the sharp pain in his lumbar region when he tries to move is telling him otherwise.  Castiel reaches out and touches Dean’s forehead with his fingers, a light tingling feeling traveling down his spine.  Dean shivers and closes his eyes, and a moment later the pain disappears. He lets out a heavy sigh. “Cas, you shouldn’t have done that,” he grumbles.

“Dean, you were in pain,” Castiel says as he helps Dean to his feet.  He shakes his head.

“Yeah, but you’re…,” he looks up at Castiel, searching his face as he looks for the right word.  Castiel stares back at him intensely, an earnest expression on his face. Dean sighs and shakes his head.  “You know what? Thank you, Cas. It feels a lot better.”

Castiel smiles brightly.  “Good. Now,” he reaches out, and he dusts some pink powder from the tip of Dean’s nose.  “What were you doing sneaking around in the spell room?”

Castiel doesn’t miss the blush on Dean’s cheeks, or the way he quickly averts his eyes and mumbles something about ‘retribution’ and ‘stupid angels’.  Smirking, Castiel follows Dean out of the library and into the kitchen, where Sam is putting away groceries.

“Hey, what was all the wruckus?” Sam asks as he unpacks eggs and bacon and stows them in the fridge.  Dean grunts in response, making a beeline for the store-baked pie Sam picked up for tonight’s dessert.  And because he’s a grown adult, and he’s allowed to eat dessert before dinner sometimes, he pops it open and takes a sampling of gooey cherry filling with his index finger.

“Dean knocked over a shelving unit in the storage room.  We’re going to need to take inventory and restock some lost materials.”

“What the hell, Dean?” Sam asks, scowling at his brother.  Dean can't respond, though: erstwhile Sam and Castiel were discussing his accident in the storage room, Dean procured some utensils from the cabinet and is heartily divesting himself with his brother's pie.  Sam rolls his eyes. “Dude, seriously?”

“A man’s gotta eat,” he says with a shrug.  He shovels another forkful into his mouth, and then he sneezes.  And then… he coughs. And then he’s pretty much doubled over himself, wheezing in pain.  It feels like his stomach is turning itself inside out.

“Dean!” Sam shouts, and he’s at his brother’s side in an instant.  He feels his forehead. “He’s burning up. What the hell?”

Big, red spots start to pop up all over Dean’s face, his arms, his neck.  All over his body. And then they start to grow, at a rapid rate, inflating until there are big, fat cherries hanging like growths off of his cheeks and arms.  Dean claws at his face, trying to pick them off. Castiel grabs his hand and stops him.

“What the fuck?” Dean screams.  Castiel shushes him, and picks up the pie Dean was eating from.

“It doesn’t seem to be poisoned,” he says after giving it a cursory sniff.  He sticks his finger into the filling and licks it. Dean watches with wide eyes as Castiel’s tongue darts out and sucks the gooey red juice from his finger.  His stomach twists, throat going dry, and this time it’s from something other than pain. “A little too much sugar, but otherwise the pie is perfectly fine. Not the source of this ailment.”

“Then what the hell is turning him into a cherry tree?” Sam practically screams.  This is obviously a little too much, even for them. Castiel frowns thoughtfully, then reaches out and picks out some of the leftover pink dust from Dean’s hair.  He gives his fingers a cursory sniff.

“Ah. Damnare Ventus.  It’s a magical powder that curses all those who ingest it to become allergic to their favorite foods.  Dean must have become exposed to it when the shelving unit fell and all the ingredient jars shattered.”

“Weh how du hehh duh wah fih ihh?” Dean shouts, and then he sticks out his tongue, and goes cross eyed as he looks down in horror at his tongue.  There is a bulbous cherry growing ight in the center of his tongue! He whimpers, and reaches out to scratch it it instinctively. Sam stops him.

“Dean, no.  You don’t know if pulling them off will make more grow, or cause you to bleed to death, or something.”

“Dahh uh wisk Uhm wihhin’ duh dake!” Dean shouts angrily.  Castiel frowns, and palces a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Dean, Sam is correct.  For now, we don’t know what consequences removing these growths will have on your body.  I suggest we find some pen and paper, and you give your mouth a rest. In the meantime, Sam can contact Rowena and we’ll see if there is a spell or countercurse that can help reverse this.”

Dean’s eyebrows furrow, and his cheeks turn red with fury.  “No widdhes!” he screams. Sam frowns.

“Wait, what did you say?”

Dean flails his arms, gesturing erractically.  “Uh haid no widdhes! No way! Ud hoonah hud ahf muh wefd ahm dan weh oh do uh widd wif muh fropluh!”

“Yeah, I didn’t get any of that,” Sam says after a few moments, his eyebrows furrowed. Dean glares at him, arms crossed over his chest.  Castiel excuses himself, and returns shortly with a notepad and a pen. He hands it to Dean, patting him on the shoulder comfortingly as Dean immediately begins to scribble on the paper

_NO WITCHES!!!!!_

“Ohhh,” Sam says, nodding in understanding.  He pats Dean’s shoulder comfortingly. “Come on man, it’ll be okay.  Remember when Rowena helped us with that memory curse?”

 _I am not going to owe that bitch anything_ _else_ , Dean scribbles.  Sam frowns.

“Don’t be like that.  She’s actually pretty okay once you get to know her.”

Dean narrows his eyes at his brother.  “Hoo ot a ding fah huh or thomdin’? Dean asks.  Sam shakes his head.

“Dude, I don’t think you get that we _cannot understand_ what you’re saying at all--”

“I believe he’s asking if you have some sort of amorous sentiment or romantic warmth for Rowena which is causing you to defend her so passionately…” Castiel trails off and Dean points at him, nodding his head vigorously and clapping his hands.  Sam glares at both of them and turns away.

“You two are ridiculous.  I’m going to call Rowena,” he says.  Even with the cherries growing in his mouth, it seems, Dean is still able to make smooching noises with his stupid lips.  Sam glares at him over his shoulder. “A _business_ call, Dean!  Because my idiot brother somehow always manages to get himself cursed in one way or another…”

That shuts Dean up, and he pouts as Sam trudges from the room to go make a call to the Winchester’s favorite witch.  Castiel reaches out and offers a comforting pat to Dean’s shoulder, draping his arm over his back. And if Castiel notices Dean leaning closer into the friendly touch, silently savoring every moment, then he doesn’t say anything about it.  Maybe Castiel even savors it for himself, too.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In all these years its kind of funny how they've never had a case take them to Vegas.  
> Fills the SPN ABO Bingo Square: "Las Vegas"

Dean is standing in front of the mirror, examining the huge fruit-shaped growth that’s sitting on his tongue.  Didn't his father tell him that this was something that would happen to him if he masturbating when he was a teenager?  Or maybe that was something about growing hair on your palms and going blind. Whatever. He clamps his mouth closed with a scowl.  This is going to be a long day.

Sam is still on the phone with Rowena.  They’ve been talking almost nonstop since Dean was cursed. _Probably making fun of these giant cherry pimples_ , Dean thinks with a scowl.  Or making plans to rendezvous and have gross, icky witch sex when they all meet up in Las Vegas in a few days.  Because apparently, when centuries-old witches aren’t wreaking havoc on innocent lives, they like to spend their time cheating at blackjack in the City of Lights and getting drunk on overpriced vino.

“Dean,” Castiel is knocking on the bathroom door.  Dean quickly grabs his shirt and pulls it over his blotchy chest.  Then he reaches out and yanks the door open, blinking in surprise when he finds Castiel standing right in front of him, holding up two masks in his hands.  One is a giant, saggy-looking orange thing that Dean thinks is supposed to be Donald Trump’s face. The second is a Batman mask that’s covered in sparkling black glitter.

“Uhhh…”

“I went to the costume shop.  If you wear these, people won’t stare at you when we’re out in public,” Castiel says helpfully.  Dean lifts his hand and pushes Castiel and his masks out of the way, stomping over to his bed and face planting.  So this is actually his life, now.

“Uh huh hihh hah uh hoo uhha, Hah,” he mumbles.  Castiel creeps closer, dropping the masks onto te side of the bed and poking Dean timidly in the shoulder.

“Dean?  It’s very hard to understand you when you speak into the pillows.  Dean lifts his head blinking blearily at Cas and giving him a sad look.

“Uh haid, Uh dunn tink hats a good uhdea, Has.”

“Ah, I see,” Castiel says gently.  He settles onto the edge of the bed, placing his hand comfortingly on Dean’s shoulder.  He rubs his back with strong, gentle hands. Dean sighs and closes his eyes, letting the feeling of Cas’s hands on his body overwhelm him for a just a moment.  “You know, it’s doesn’t look nearly as bad as you’re thinking. If you don’t make a big deal out of it, I’m sure nobody will notice.”

Dean levels Castiel with a haughty stare.  The angel shrugs, and withdraws his hands from Dean’s back.  He immediately misses the contact. “I swear, humans are so self-conscious sometimes,” he sighs.  Dean suddenly feels compelled with anger, and he glares at Castiel.

“Yuh would buh seff-conhush too, if yuh had cerries gowin on yuh fafe!” he shouts, cheeks turning red as the little fruits that are hanging from his cheeks.  Castiel winces apologetically and looks away.

“I’m sorry, Dean.  I know this is difficult for you.  I just wanted to reassure you that even with this curse, you’re still very handsome,” he says, and immediately blushes.  Dean blinks at him in surprise. Castiel clears his throat, suddenly seeming a little self-conscious himself. “Anyway, you’re only going to have to stay like this for a few more days, at the most.  Rowena is going to find a cure for this.”

Dean is quiet, unsure of what to say.  He and Castiel sit together in silence for a while, and then Castiel finally stands up from the bed.  He makes his way to the door, and Dean turns to watch him leave. The cherry that’s protruding from his left cheek presses uncomfortable against the duvet, but he doesn’t care.

“Hey Cas?” he calls.  Castiel turns, looking back at Dean expectantly.  Dean smiles a little and says, “Hanks. Foh evaheedin.”

Castiel smiles and nods, and slips quietly from the room.  Dean turns his head back the other way and closes his eyes.  He thinks a nap will be a nice way to procrastinate from packing his bag for Vegas.

\---

They leave early in the morning the next day.  Sam is shouting from the kitchen that they are going to be late (Rowena stressed to them that she’s a very important person, and they shouldn’t dilly-dally or cause any disruptions to her _very important_ schedule.  Dean rolls his eyes) as Dean hastily tosses clothing into his suitcase.  Castiel sits on his bed and watches with interest, his father’s journal balanced on Castiel’s knees as he flips idly through the pages relating to cursed objects.

It’s a 16 hour drive, though, so Sam does kind of have a point,  After a rushed breakfast of bacon, eggs and toast, they hit the road.  Dean is still in a foul mood even after his talk with Castiel last night (though he continues to replay it over and over in his head, and can’t help but smile everytime he remembers those sweet words he said and the pretty blush on his face after he said them), so he lets Sam drive while he power naps in the backseat.

They switch drivers around Denver, about six hours later.  Castiel goes into the convenience store to pick out some beef jerky and chips for their lunch while Sam pumps the tank full of gas.  Then they’re back on the road again, and Dean turns up the radio so he doesn’t have to hear the myriad of hopeless thoughts rushing through his head right now.  

Castiel reaches over about two hours into the drive and pats the back of his hand with a gentle touch.  All of his negative thoughts disappear, and Dean looks over at Cas with something akin to wonderment. Castiel smiles at him, and Dean wonders why the sight of it makes his heart hurt in his chest.

They arrive in town around two in the morning.  Sam looks confused as Dean speeds past motorway hotels and dingy, cheap fleabag hovels on the outskirts of the city.  Instead he navigates into the heart of Vegas, down Las Vegas Boulevard.

“Dude, where are we going?” Sam asks, leaning forward and propping himself up on the center console.  Dean doesn’t say anything, just keeps on driving through the heavy downtown traffic, which leaves Castiel to turn around and explain what’s going on to Sam.

“Dean decided that since this curse was going to take us all the way to Vegas, he might as well make it into a well-deserved vacation.  I tried to dissuade him, but he insisted on maxing out your Capitol One Card for a five night stay at the Bellagio. I’m not sure exactly what that is, but Dean seemed very excited.”

“Dean!  You maxed out my credit card!?  What the fuck?” Sam screams. Dean shrugs rather apathetically.  Sam turns to glare at Cas. “You let him do this?  Why didn’t you tell me!”

“He swore me to secrecy,” Castiel answers simply.  Dean smirks.

“And I pomithed him heh could hah uh fet gunnee fig if he hept ih on thuh hown low.”

Castiel hums.  “Oh, yes, and he promised me a pet guinea pig if I didn’t tell you.  I’m sorry, Sam.”

Sam frowns and grumbles, “For some reason I don’t think you really are.”

They pull up to the Bellagio, and they are greeted outside by a young valet in a fitted suit and white gloves.  Dean is hesitant to hand over the keys, but he also doesn’t want to draw attention to himself and his… deformity, so he drops the keys into his palm and rushes past him before the young man can get a good look at his face.  Castiel hangs back instead, and he levels the valet with a look that would kill, if looks could kill.

“Be careful with this car,” he says fiercely.  “Not a scratch on her.” The young man nods.

“Yes, sir,” he says.  Castiel narrows his eyes at him, scrutinizing him, and then he seems to accept that the man understands and he nods.  He turns and follows after Dean and Sam, who are lugging their bags into the hotel.

The lobby of the hotel is huge, and sparkly.  The polished marble floors and walls and ceiling shine in the bright light.  Despite it being almost three o’clock in the morning there are still a lot of people flitting around, drinking in the bar and talking with friends.  On one side of the vast lobby are the reception desks, and Castiel follows Sam to go check in as Dean excuses himself to find the bathrooms.

“Hey,” Dean appears beside Castiel a few minutes later, a fedora pulled over the top of his head, the brim tilted to conceal the worst of his blemishes.  He wraps an arm around Castiel’s elbow and tugs him away from the reception desk. “Hum owduh meh uh dunk,” he says quietly. Castiel glances at the huge clock that’s hung upon the wall.

“It’s 2:49 AM, Dean.”

“Uhm hirthty,” he says.  Castiel sighs and nods, and follows Dean to the dining area  There, they lean against the polished bar until Castiel can wave down a waiter and order two glasses of scotch, neat.

They drink quietly, enjoying each other in companionable silence.  Dean looks up suddenly when he spots a beautiful woman, in a slinky red dress with her hair done up in an intricate bun.  He watches as she makes her way over, hips swaying, and he sighs and looks away. She walks right past him, and then, to his surprise (and unexpectedly, to his dread, and who would have thought?) she drags her manicured hand over Castiel’s shoulder and gives his arm a squeeze.

“Hey, handsome,” she says.  Dean’s heart skips a beat as Castiel turns his head, his eyes going wide at the sight of the woman.

“Um, hello,” he says.  The woman smiles, showing her teeth.

“You’re pretty easy on the eyes.  What are you doing tonight?” she asks, fingers crawling up his arm.  Castiel opens his mouth, unsure of what to say. Dean clears his throat and tips his hat towards the woman.

“He’s nah inerethted,” he grits out.  The woman’s smile disappears, and she pushes away from the bar.  Then she saunters away, towards another table of men, where she might find some more luck.  Castiel looks back at Dean, a blush tinting his cheeks red.

“That woman…”

“Uh hooher,” Dean grunts, knocking back the rest of his drink and pushing his glass away.  Castiel frowns, looking down at his lap thoughtfully.

“A hooker?” he wonders.  “So she wanted to sell sex to me?”

Dean nods, then slaps Castiel on the back, tilting his chin up and throwing a smirk in his direction.  “Yuh. Wehcome to Las Feguh, baby.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team Free will checks into their rooms at the Bellagio. Things do not go as planned.  
> This fills the "Bed Sharing" square on my SPN ABO Bingo card! ;)

“Come on,” Sam says, handing Dean a pair of keys and leading him and Castiel towards the elevator.  “The faster we can get up to the room, the better. We don’t want to have to answer any questions about…,” Sam trails off, gaze flickering over the massive cherries bespeckled across Dean’s face.  His brother scowls.

“Whah, Sam?” Dean snarks.  Sam glares at him, his bitchface so tough that Dean can’t help but snicker.  He peeks at the room number on the key and taps the proper floor button on the elevator.  They’re on the seventeenth floor. They’re going to have an amazing view of the city from their windows.

“So, I guess you guys’ll share the room with the twins?” Sam asks after a few moments of silent riding in the elevator.  Dean looks at his brother with raised eyebrows, startled, and Sam huffs. “Ever since you grew those cherries you’ve been snoring in your sleep, and Cas sleeps like a brick anyway.  I won’t be able to  _ survive  _ a whole week in the same room…”

“Ohay, Ohay!” Dean snaps.  It’s too late and he’s been driving for too long to have to listen to his little brother whining.  And anyway, sharing a room with Cas can’t be the worst thing in the world. What’s it matter if Cas is Omega, smells like sweet bread and honey and Dean just wants to dip his finger in and taste?  He’s not an animal; he can control himself for a week at least. And it’s not like they’re going to even be sharing the same bed. He spares a glance at Castiel, to make sure  _ he’s  _ okay with this too, and the angel smiles back at him.

Well, at least one of them is comfortable with it.

They arrive at their rooms without incident.  Sam bids them both to have a good night and keys himself into his room, and then Dean does the same.  He drops his duffle bag on to the floor by the door, and takes a few seconds to look around the room, admiring the decor.  It’s not often at all that they get to splurge on a nice hotel like this one, and Dean wants to savor it.

The walls are clean white, the one nearest to the wall decorated with a tasteful portrait of the Las Vegas skyline.  On the wall above the dressers is mounted a giant flat screened television, and Dean pumps his fist in victory. He’ll be able to watch Dr. Sexy M.D. in  _ high def _ !  If everything works out, this vacation just might be worth the case of Cherry Pie Pox he’s come down with.

Castiel follows him into the room, dropping his bag beside Dean’s and peeking over his shoulder.  He frowns when he looks around the room, resting his hand gently on his best friend’s shoulder. “Dean?”

“Cas, hook ah his TV!  Um honna hang ow in here ah week!”

“Dean, there’s only one bed,” Cas says, and Dean’s eyes track towards the bed.  Singular. One.  _ Uno _ .  Dean feels his heart sink into his stomach, and the back of his neck prickles.

“Oh,” he mutters.  “Hah’s… nah wuh I ath’d hor,” he says dumbly.  Castiel hums in agreement, and muscles his way past Dean and into the bedroom proper.  He reaches out and touches the top of the mattress, decorated with royal purple sheets and golden pillows.  The mattress is soft to the touch. Probably memory foam. His gaze slides back to Dean, taking in the shocked look on the Alpha’s face.

“I can always sleep on the floor.  I don’t need much sleep, even these days…”

“Nuh, Cas,” Dean says quickly, ushering himself forward even when every muscle in his body screams protest.  He swallows hard, and he’s pretty sure he gulps with such force that even Cas can hear it. “Yuh nuh honna thleep ah the hoor!  I heah--,” he clicks his tongue against the back of his teeth, and sighs. He looks at the bed wistfully. “It hooks hetty hig. Um hure we hould…,” he stops, wide green eyes tracking the expression on Cas’s face.  “I heah, ohnee ih yuh comfahul wih ih, buh we coulh thare. Or  _ I  _ coulh thlee ah da hoor!”

“You’ve been driving all day,” Castiel answers, and he reaches out with his strong hands and touches Dean’s shoulders.  He shivers at the contact, barely able to contain his whimper when Castiel’s skilled fingers knead into his muscles. God, he’s tense.  He wonders if Cas even knows what he’s doing to him--!

“Yeah,” he answers dumbly.  He isn’t sure if he could articulate himself right now… with Cas’s hands on him like this.  Oh, fuck, is he a weak Alpha man. And this massage is  _ doing  _ things to him.  If he’s not careful… He jerks away from Cas’s touch all of a sudden, as difficult as it is for him to do, and goes to fluff the pillows on the right side of the bed.  Cas remains where he’s standing, staring at the bed thoughtfully.

“We can share the bed,” Castiel says with casual ease.  Like its NO BIG DEAL to him! Dean nearly bawks at him. He watches him go back to the door and close it, then pick up his bag and carry it to the left side of the bed.  He drops it on the end and begins to unpack his clothes and other things. “Would you like to take a shower before you sleep?”

“Um gooh,” he says, and begins to strip out of his jeans and layers, tossing on a light t-shirt and a pair of PJ’s.  He slides into bed, taking care to keep to his side. He tries not to look while Cas undresses himself, but he can’t help it when his eyes drift a little.  As he pulls off his shirt, exposing smooth skin and rippling muscles. As he drops his pants, flashing a curve of that voluptuous ass-- Dean is looking away now, he’s looking away,  _ he’s looking away! _

Cas slides into the bed, and Dean feels the mattress dip beside him.  He tries not to move at all. He tries not to breath! If he doesn’t breath, then he won’t have to smell Cas’s fucking delicious scent, won’t have to mind the fact that he’s  _ in the same bed _ right now as the Omega he’s been pining after since…

“Hey,” Castiel’s voice is soft and rough, barely more than a whisper in the darkness.  Dean turns to look at him; sees Cas’s bright eyes blinking at him in the pitch black. “We’ll get it sorted out in the morning, Dean.  You should try to sleep now.”

“Yeah, Cas,” he says, and he swallows.  His spit tastes like cherries. “Yuh hight.  Hanks.”

Castiel smiles.  “Good night,” he says.  Dean sighs and closes his eyes, and smiles.

“Gooh nigh, Cas.”

In the morning, Dean is slow to wake.  The bed is memory foam after all, and its so rare that they get to sleep in.  He swims towards consciousness casually, feeling tired and warm and not yet willing to pry his eyes open.  He hums, smacking his lips, and stretches against the warm presence curled up beside him. God, this is nice.  This is…

Dean’s eyes pop open, and he suddenly remembers where he is.  Not at home but in Las Vegas, in his suite in the Bellagio, lying in bed.  Lying in bed with  _ Cas _ .  Cas who is currently clinging to him like an octopus, and who he’s just gone and wrapped his arms around like some kind of Hallmark Movie Alpha mate!  Dean reels backwards with such force that he topples right out of the bed. When he pops his head up over the edge of the mattress, Cas is just beginning to wake up, frowning and blinking groggily up at Dean.

“Where’d you go?” he mumbles, yawning so hard that his jaw cracks.  Dean springs up from the floor and walks fast to the other side of the room, where the door to their private bathroom is.

“Gohha wizz,”  he grunts, and then he ducks into the bathroom and slams the door closed.  He leans against the door heavily, chest heaving. Waking up with Cas pressed up against him like that has… definitely taken an affect on his body.  He reaches down and presses the heel of his palm against the growing bulge in his pajamas, letting out a quiet whimper. Why did Cas have to lie against him like that?  Oh  _ God _ , why did Dean have to lie against  _ Cas _ like that?

He sighs and slips his hand into his pants, and gives himself a firm tug.  He really shouldn’t be doing this with Cas in the other room. Doesn’t the guy have supersonic hearing?  The thought punches another quiet whimper out of Dean’s throat, and he huffs, tugging harder and faster at his pulsing erection.  Already his knot is starting to swell. It’s really pathetic, is what it is, Dean thinks. How can he be this base?

He sighs and lets his eyes slip closed, thumbing over the head of his sensitive penis.  The way that Cas was pressed so close… the top of his hair tickling against Dean’s chin, his delicious scent filling Dean’s nose with all sorts of impure thoughts. Castiel smells like fresh bread and sweet, spicy honey.  He wonders if his skin tastes like honey too. Dean imagines kissing him, dragging his tongue all over his body, suckling at his cock… Dean shivers and moans, and comes right in his shorts, his fist wrapped around his swollen knot.  

His whole body trembles as he comes down from his orgasm, and he lets out a shaky sigh as he strips his pants off all the way and clambors into the shower.  Now that he’s come it’s time for him to feel guilty about having such impure thoughts about his best friend. And to whack off with him in the room next door, nonetheless, Dean is pretty sure he’s going back to hell.  He scrubs at his body with the hotel provided soap, which is carved into the shape of a diamond and smells like roses. He scrubs himself until his skin is red and raw, and only then does he begin to feel a little clean.

If Cas ever knew what he was doing while he was alone in here, Dean wonders what he would do.  What would he say? Would he ever even speak to Dean again? Dean certainly doesn’t think he’d ever be able to look at Cas in the face again.  That is, of course, unless his affections were somehow returned… But that’s not possible, and Dean casts the thought from his mind as quickly as it occurs to him.  Cas is an angel, his closest friend, but nothing more. He’s never indicated in any way that he might one day want  _ more. _

Dean finishes washing, steps out of the shower and wraps the biggest, fluffiest towel he’s ever seen around his waist.  All things considered, he still is glad that they decided to spend their stay at the Bellagio. This is the nicest hotel Dean has ever been to  _ in his life _ .  He steps out of the bathroom, steam billowing out after him, and stares at the bed.  

Cas is stretched languidly across the bed, still asleep and snoring gently into his pillow.  From beneath the tangled sheets his bare leg pokes out, revealing the smooth stretch of his leg all the way from his ankle to his thick, muscled thigh.  His torso is exposed a little bit too, his shirt riding up, exposing the tantalizing jut of his hip bone and the swirling Enochian tattoo he’s got printed on his curvy waist.  Dean swallows hard, and feel his dick twitch beneath the fluffy towel.

Fuck.  If they can’t get their rooms switched, this is going to be the longest week of Dean’s life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG that was fun to write. Why does it feel like ages since I've written destiel?!!?!?? I am so glad that I was able to pick this story back up. I lost my outline and I thought I wasn't going to be able to finish it! (That's what I get for writing it on loose leaf). But the folks at spnabobingo were kind enough to send me another copy of my bingo card, and I made a new, DIGITAL outline. Now we should be back on track!
> 
> Phew, it's been a long couple of weeks. School started, and I wound up having to quit a job that I really really needed because of religious discrimination and harassment (my boss yelled at me for 90 minutes straight and made me cry). I wound up having to go to a lawyer and report him to the Title IX office at my school. And because I was having a nervous breakdown from all of that shit... I missed a bunch of other responsibilities and got in trouble for not doing what I was supposed to do elsewhere. Thankfully, those people were kind of understanding when I gave them the abridged version of what happened to me.
> 
> But anyway, if I've been missing, it's because I've been dealing with a TON of personal shit. But fear not! I will be around more often now, I promise. And things are looking up. I have a date tomorrow (wish me luck!!! :D) and a study abroad appointment so arrange a trip for spring 2019. I am going to Scandinavia to learn about Norse Mythology! :D Now all of my thorki fanfiction will be factually accurate as well as steamy smutty...
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed this much long-awaited chapter. There will be more very very soon! :) I am going for the gold with this one.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rowena flirts with Sam, and Cas throws himself at Dean. Rowena lifts Dean’s curse and tells his fortune.   
> This chapter fills the "Secret Admirer" square for SPN ABO Bingo

“Took you long enough,” Sam says when he greets them in the lobby, sitting at the breakfast bar with a plate piled high with eggs, bacon, yogurt and fruit.  Dean’s stomach rumbles at the sight of the monstrous pile, and he reaches out immediately to snag a piece of bacon from his brother. Sam knocks his hand away with a glare.  “Get your own at the buffet. What held you guys up, anyway? I’ve been down here for like an hour already,” Sam says.

“We were sleeping,” Castiel answers, his sleep-rough voice evidence enough taht he’s telling the truth.  He rubs some crust from his eyes. “And Dean needed to shower. He took an exceptionally long time, so I decided to go back to bed.  I’m sorry we kept you waiting, Sam.”

“No biggie.  How about that water pressure, Dean?” Sam asks his brother, and wiggles his eyebrows at him.  Dean grunts and muscles his way past his brother, making his way to the breakfast buffet with his head ducked.  Luckily, it’s self serve. He serves himself a plate with generous portions of bacon, breakfast ham, hashbrowns and eggs.  He even tosses in a few pieces of fruit, because the blueberries look way too plump and juicy to pass up. He carefully opts out from the cherries, though, and hustles his way back to his, Sam’s and Cas’s table before anybody can notice his facial deformities.

“How’th Howena?” He asks as he sits down, digging into his bacon first of all.  He sighs at the salty burst of flavor on his tongue, and pushes the plate towards Cas for him to try.  He smiles gratefully and nibbles at the food on Dean’s plate while Sam talks.

“She’s good.  Texted me to confirm our appointment at noon.  Which,” Sam glances at his watch, then claps his hands together and wipes them on his jeans.  ‘We should get going soon if we want to get there on time. Vegas traffic’s gotta be a bitch.”

“Afher heakfath,” Dean says, and he pops a blueberry into his mouth.  E nearly moans at how perfectly tart and juicy it is. He turns to say so to Cas, even holding one out in his hand as a recommendation for the angel to try, but when he does so he finds that Cas is gone. A cursory glance around the room lets him know that Cas has gotten up and is now piling his own plate high with bacon and fruit.  He smiles fondly. “Cas ih mahing a flahe.”

“Dude,” Sam scoffs, shaking his head at Dean judgmentally.  Dean purses his lips and glares at his brother.

“Wuh?”

“You are so obvious!  You’re not even trying to hide the fact that you’re full on tiwtterpated over him,” he says.  Dean grits his teeth, jaw clenched.

“Sam, I sweah--”

“They have grape jelly, Dean!” Cas chooses that moment to shout excitedly across the room, and Dean smiles and nods at him as he watches his best friend load up a piece of toast with way too much jelly.  He stares for a good thirty seconds, just admiring the way that Cas moves and the happy look on his face as he samples all the breakfast fare that the Bellagio has to offer. When he looks back at Sam, he doesn’t even try to argue with the knowing look that Sam is giving him.  He simply shrugs and flips his brother off, and digs back into his bacon. 

So what if he  _ is  _ twitterpated?  Which he is  _ not _ .  It’s just a little crush.  And it’s none of Sam’s business, anyway.

“COme on guys, we have to go,” Sam complains again once Cas has taken his seat, devouring his jam-slick toast with gusto.  Dean huffs and shoves his mostly empty plate away.

“Yuh, I guh yuh hight.  Cas, duh yuh halk hoo huh cahier?” he asks, wrapping his knuckles against the table and looking at the angel expectantly.  If it weren’t for the giant cherry-shaped goiters sprouting from his face, Dean would have taken care of the issue already.  At the mention of their dilemma, Cas clears his throat and wipes his crumb-coated lips with his sleeve.

“I didn’t get the chance to yet.  I was going to speak with him right after breakfast,” Cas answers.  He pushes his chair back, ready to get up and go do so right now. Sam looks between his brother and Castiel curiously.

“What’s the matter?”

“They accidentally booked us in a Queen Suite, not a Twin.  Dean and I had to share the bed last night,” Castiel announces.  Dean wishes he could bury his head six feet under the ground for the look that Sam gives him.  His cheeks turn bright red and he glares at his brother, just daring him to make a snarky comment as he ushers Cas out of his seat.

“Cuh on, we duh hab all day,” he says.  Castiel follows obediently, breezing past Dean to go speak with the concierge.  Just before he can walk away, though, Dean grabs him by the sleeve and pulls him back.  “Wait,” he grunts, and with a trembling hand he reaches out, delicately wiping some grape jelly from the corner of his mouth.  Cas’s eyes track his movements, and he smiles when he sees the little glob of sugary jam on the tip of Dean’s finger. “There,” he says softly.  Castiel smiles.

“Thank you, Dean,” he says, and then Dean’s heart nearly stops.  Castiel  _ leans forward  _ and  _ licks _ the jelly  _ right off of Dean’s finger. _  He’s pretty sure he does whimper out loud that time, and he sways a little bit on his feet as he watches Castiel turn on his heel and march off towards the concierge’s desk.  As soon as he’s turned around Dean nearly doubles over, choking on his own breath and wheezing pathetically where he stands. Oh my God! Castiel just fucking  _ licked  _ him!

“You good, bro?” Sam asks, slapping Dean on the shoulder as he walks by.  Dean mutters a wordless reply, mewling and whimpering as his brother hauls him up and walks them out of the Bellagio.  

By the time they’ve made it out to the Impala Dean has mostly recovered, though he’s feeling a little dizzy and hands off the keys for Sam to drive.  Cas catches up with them, a contemplative frown on his face. Dean looks to him expectantly as he clambors into the backseat, but as soon as Cas returns his gaze he finds that he is physically unable to meet the angel’s eyes.  His head snaps in the other direction, and he stares intently out the window.

“What’s the word?” Sam asks as he starts the engine and peels out of the Bellagio’s parking lot.  Castiel sighs.

“Well, the hotel is all booked up,” he says.  Dean feels his heart sink deep, deep into his stomach.  “Apparently there is some poker convention in town this weekend, and we were lucky to even get the rooms that we did.  They can’t move us.”

Dean is glad that he’s not driving. He might have crashed the car if he’d gotten that news while behind the wheel.  Instead, he simply stares out the window and feels his soul ascending from his body. He’s not even being overdramatic.  Rooming with Cas in the same bed for the rest of the week is going to kill him.

“Oh.  That sucks.  You gonna be good sharing a bed with Dean for the rest of the week?” Sam asks, peeking into the rearview mirror to look at Cas.  The angel shrugs.

“I am fine with it.  Dean suggested that he would sleep on the floor, but I think that we’ll be okay.”

Sam frowns, glancing sideways at his brother.  Dean astutely ignores him. “Oh. Well, if Dean’s uncomfortable with it… you could always come bunk with me, Cas.  I wouldn’t mind.”

Oh, thank God for Sammy!  Dean could kiss him right now.  He hadn’t even thought of pawning Cas off to Sam for the rest of the week.  That would solve all of Dean’s problems. No more waking up to tangled limbs… Cas’s delicious buttered break scent all over him… or crazy frantic jack-off sessions in the bathroom ten feet away from Cas while he sleeps. Cas can go to Sam’s room and sleep in bed with him, and then…. Dean frowns.  Then,  _ Sam  _ will be waking up with Cas tangled around him.   _ Sam _ will be the one who gets to smell Cas’s delicious scent first thing in the morning.  And  _ Sam _ will be the one having sick fantasies about knotting Cas on the beautiful silky sheets of their hotel bed--!

“Dude, stop growling,” Sam shouts, and Dean is snapped out of his reverie by his brother’s annoyed glare.  He hadn’t even realized he was baring his teeth and snarling like a wild animal. “It was just a suggestion.  Since bunking with Cas seems to make you all jittery.”

“You can have me in your bed if you want me, Dean,” Castiel deadpans from the backseat.  He doesn’t miss the way that Sam smirks when he turns back to silently stare at the road and navigate them through downtown Las Vegas traffic.  Dean huffs and rolls his eyes. Cas just doesn’t know what he’s  _ saying _ .

“Um nah glittery,” Dean grumbles under his breath.  Sam chuckles softly, and Dean glares at him.  _ Whatever _ .  If his brother wants to judge him, then let him.  He’ll be sorry when Dean replaces all of his fancy, expensive shampoo back at the bunker with Astroglide.

They arrive at another hotel halfway across the city, and let themselves into the lobby without any problems.  Sam lances at his phone- ostensibly checking his phone for text messages from Rowena, with whom he’s been corresponding frequently since Dean’s magical diagnosis - and clears his throat.

“She’s waiting for us upstairs.  Come on,” he says. They take the stairs because the elevators are crowded, and Dean’s deformity is still pretty much the first thing that you see when you look at his face.  Dean grumbles the whole way up, still grumpy that he is going to have to work cooperatively with a witch again.

“I suh duh wanna work wih Howeha,” Dean says petulantly as he brushes past his brother on the tares, glaring hard at him over his shoulder.  Sam huffs.

“Well then what would you have us do, Dean?  WOrk with some other witch? AT least we know we can trust Rowena,” he says.  Dean gives him a ludicrous look, and he shrugs. “At least a little bit, anyway.  She’s not going to double cross us.”

“How duh yuh how?” Dean snaps.  “Yuh may suh kind ha deal wih huh?” Sam blushes, and Dean sneers and looks away from his brother.  He does  _ not  _ want to imagine what kind of business his brother and the witch have been, or are planning to, get up to.  Perhaps  _ that’s _ the reason why Sam has been glued to his phone for the past week.

“Gross,” Dean mutters.  Sam shoulder checks him on his way up, and Dean stumbles for a few steps.  Castiel catches him, and their heads knock together. Dean’s face winds up smooshed against Cas’s neck for a good thirty seconds while he regains his footing, and he winds up getting a big whiff of that delicious fresh-bread and butter and sweet honey scent right in his face.  His cock twitches in his jeans, and he shoves himself away from the angel, now blushing himself. He catches Sam smirking back at them for ajusta second before he turns and continues up the stairs. Dean considers whether or not fratricide is a feasible option for his circumstances.

Rowena ushers them into her suite when they arrive, handing each of them a cup of tea and ordering them to sit down.

“What kind of stupid trouble have you gotten yourself into this time, Dean Winchester?” she chastises him, hands on her hips.  Dean glares at her, refusing to touch his tea. She chuckles and taps him on the nose with one long, perfectly manicured finger.  “Drink up, Deanie. That tea is going to shrink those  _ beautiful  _ pimples of yours until they’re small enough to remove.”

Dean scowls, but does as he’s told.  Rowena turns away from him, smiling lecherously at Sam and gliding over to him.  “Well hello, Alpha Winchester. How are you doing today?” She asks, scooping him up by the chin and tilting his face towards hers.  He smiles a little bit, his expression coquettish. Dean wants to throw up.

“I’m good.  Better now, though,” he flirts.  Dean groans.

“Shuh uh!”

“Oh, hush, little leanbh.  Drink up your tea,” Rowena snaps back at him, her voice dripping false sweetness.  Dean grumbles and buries his face into his cup, attempting to suck down his drink at a faster pace than is probably healthy.  Rowena turns away from Sam, dropping her hand from his face and smiling predatorily at Castiel. “And how’s my favorite little bird doing today?”

“I am well,” Castiel rumbles, frowning at his tea.  “But I am not actually a bird.”

Rowena rolls her eyes, turning away with a flourish.  “Obviously, but you are too serious as ever.” She walks back over to Dean and taps him on the shoulder.  “Come on, dear. We’ll go into the bedroom and get these pretty blemishes of yours all sorted out.”

Dean frowns, shifting his gaze back to his brother and Cas one last time before he stands up and follows Rowena into the bedroom.  She sits him on the bed, and he finishes off the last dregs of his tea. She takes the cup from him and places it on the dresser across from the bed, then walks over tp Dean and touches his face.  He jerks away, and she tuts at him.

“Be still,” she snaps.  Dean complies with a glare, bearing his teeth at her when she tilts his chin up and pokes at one of the large cherries protruding from his face.  “It’s a simple fix, dearie. You’re lucky, you only inhaled a bit of the powder. Had you eaten it, you’d have turned completely into a big red fruit.”

“Luhhy me,” he grumbles sardonically.  Rowena chuckles, much too delighted to see him in pain, and she begins to whisper in Latin as her hands touch all over his face.

There’s a blast of purple light, and Dean feels the skin on his face burning painfully.  He groans, his hands flying up to cover his cheeks from the pain. When he touches himself, he finds that his cheeks are smooth again!  And then he opens his mouth, looking down with crossed eyes, and sees the flat surface of his pink tongue is bare! He smiles despite himself up at Rowena.

“Hey, you did it!” he says, grinning from ear to ear.  Rowena hums and nods.

“Of course I did it.  Would you like me to tell you your fortune too, while I’m at it?”

Dean’s smile disappears, and he looks at Rowena suspiciously.  “You’re not funny,” he says, standing up. Rowena smiles coyly at him.

“What?  It was only a benevolent offer.  I’d think you would want to know you have a  _ secret admirer _ ,” she says.  She blinks innocently at him, her long eyelashes fanning out across her perfectly made up cheeks.  Dean scoffs.

“Whatever,” he says.  He reaches up to touch his face again, having a newfound appreciation for his smooth, unblemished skin.  He touches his beard with his fingers, frowning. He needs to shave. He hasn’t been able to trim his beard for almost a full week now, because of those stupid cherries.  He peers at himself in the mirror on the wall, and sighs in relief. “God, I am never eating pie again.”

“Now,  _ that _ is a lie,” Rowena cackles, brushing past him and putting her hand on the bedroom door.  “Think about it, Dean. You’re closer to finding your truest love than you realize.” She smirks at him, and he stares after her as she opens the door and quietly slips from the room.  Dean blinks, his mind racing, her words playing over and over in his mind. His truest love? How is he even supposed to react to that?

He settles on scoffing to himself, rolling his eyes dramatically towards the ceiling.   _ His truest love?  A secret admirer? Give me a break! _

“Dean?” Castiel knocks on the door, peering inside.  His face lights up in a beaming smile when he sees Dean’s unblemished face.  “How do you feel?” he asks, stepping forward. Dean smiles a little, always pleased to see Cas.  Castiel reaches out and touches Dean’s once-again-smooth cheek. 

“I’m good,” Dean says gruffly, and without intending to, he leans into Cas’s touch.  His fingers are so gentle against Dean’s skin. “Better, now,” he says, in a daze.

Castiel smiles, and pulls his hand away.  “Good. You need to shave.”

Dean snorts out a laugh, his cheeks coloring a little.  He nods. “Yeah, I know. Come on, let’s go get some grub,” he says, patting his belly.  Castiel grins.

“Sure.  Pie?”

Dean laughs, and slings his arm over Cas’s shoulder as they exit the bedroom together.  “You’ve got to be kidding me…”

 


End file.
